


Hold Fast

by squeeliferuiner



Series: Compromise [5]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crack Pairing, LSV, M/M, Mpreg, Ravelry, accidental RP, elaborate pranks, rampaging bilgesnipe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeeliferuiner/pseuds/squeeliferuiner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which an elaborate prank turns into an impromptu wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by estoile and MadamBackslash.

Asgard.

Sitwell’s well beyond overwhelmed. They’ve been on Asgard three hours, and he’s been gawked at, snarled at, and generally reminded that as delightful a mistake as it was to sleep with Loki, it was still a mistake.

Sitwell’s faced down terrorists and con men pointing guns at his head and the Destroyer. Thor tells him that Odin’s snarling is a good thing, that it’s the king’s silence that is cause for concern. He thinks he prefers the Destroyer, even though the snarling was directed more at Loki than at him (although he is the one who basically had to come in and say, hey there, King, I’m the mortal who knocked up your son, how’s it goin?). And Loki, of course, seems completely unfazed, even cheerful, although Sitwell can see a slight tightness around his eyes that belies the unruffled demeanor.  

So now he’s lying on Loki’s bed, head pillowed on his arm, watching the god putter around his rooms and wondering how in hell he ended up here (easy enough, Thor had said that Frigga wanted to check on Loki and make sure everything was fine, and suddenly Coulson and Hill were both agreeing that what he really needed was an Asgardian vacation with his clingy babymomma (babydaddy? Really, what’s the right term here? Sitwell can’t decide) and so they’d all been packed off to Asgard and frankly this is not his idea of a vacation, thanks, Phil (but after Thor had bodily carried him off to spend time with Loki while he was supposed to be doing paperwork all because Loki had looked sad, it’s probably just as well because it’s not like he would be getting any work done anyway)). Where everything is impossibly shiny and equally impossibly old and he can’t read the books because they’re in arcane runic scripts and of course his phone stopped working somewhere on the rainbow bridge, so he can’t even amuse himself with endless games of Galaga – not that there’s any place to recharge it once the battery ran out anyway, of course.

So he’s watching Loki, because there is nothing else to do. And Loki’s puttering because he’s restless, because the tightness is lingering around his eyes, because it’s his home but Sitwell’s never seen anyone look less at home in their own bedroom (and how many centuries has he slept here, this bed? Loki had neatly evaded the question when Sitwell had tried to ask).

He clears his throat and props himself up on his elbows. Loki glances over at him from where he’s flipping through books on the vast shelves.

“So what happens now?” he asks. “I mean, you’ve told your parents, and I got the impression you want this to be a quick visit. How long do you think we’ll stay?”

Loki shrugs and comes over to sit on the edge of the bed, thick, dusty book in his hand. “There’ll be a feast tonight. There’s always a feast when we return from any sort of venture away from Asgard, although this one will be in my honor to celebrate my…condition. Tomorrow I must meet with my mother and her healers for a time. You are free to explore Asgard if you wish, although I would recommend you take Thor or one of the guards with you to ensure you do not get lost. And depending on what Frigga says, we can return tomorrow evening or perhaps the next day.”

“And you’re sure Odin isn’t going to have me assassinated in my sleep for…this?” He gestures vaguely at Loki.

Loki just raises an eyebrow at him. “Odin will not wish to make me unhappy. Or to cause any sort of incident with Midgard. He is not happy about this, no, but he does not blame you.”

A knock sounds at the door. Loki rises, all fluid grace in his leathers, and answers it, speaking quietly for a moment before turning back. “It’s nearly time for the feast. We should make our way there. Thor will meet us there.”

“Okay.” Sitwell scoots off the bed, brushes wrinkles out of his shirt, grabs his suit coat from a hook on the wall, and follows Loki out and down the gleaming corridors.

Sitwell nods at Thor, who’s waiting for them just outside the entrance to what they assure him is a mid-sized feasting hall (to Sitwell’s eyes, though, it’s about the size of the mess on the ‘carrier – big enough to seat at least a hundred). They stand in the doorway, watching servants scurry around, carrying large platters of strange foods and goblets of beverages. Thor snags a pair of tall mugs from a tray passing them and hands one to Sitwell, who sniffs warily (“it’s only mead,” Thor says, but mead on Asgard could well be an entirely different entity from mead on Midgard – Earth, rather – not that he’s ever drunk mead on Earth either). He looks up as another giant platter passes by, his jaw dropping.

“Is that a whole boar? Good grief.”

“Yes,” Thor answers, “it is a whole boar. It is delicious!” Thor drains his mug of mead and smashes it on the floor. “ANOTHER!” A servant scurries up with more.

Sitwell glances from his mug to Thor. “Will people look at me funny if I smash my mug too? Is that the normal thing here? Or is it just a you thing?”

“It’s a Thor thing.” Loki’s voice comes from somewhere to his right, sounding amused. “Civilized people just get refills.”

“Come now, brother, it is what warriors do!” Thor bounces toward Sitwell enthusiastically.

“Well, if it’s what warriors do.” Sitwell gulps his and throws down the mug. “Another!” He winces slightly at the strong taste and staggers slightly. “Or not. That’s very…potent.”

Loki graces him with a sulky glare. “It is not fair that you should become inebriated while I cannot.”

Thor claps his brother on the shoulder at that. “Loki, how can you sulk with all this food? This feast is for you! It is a most joyous occasion!”

Loki shrugs. “I want mead and I cannot have any. But otherwise it is a most delightful feast and I am of course pleased that it is all for me.” He preens, turning this way and that before them. “How do I look? Presentable?”

“You look wonderful, brother. All eyes will be on you.”

Sitwell nods agreement. “Very regal. And you definitely glow. I admit, I’m curious as to what the Lady Frigga has to say about this pregnancy. This is kind of a first for me, you know, fathering a child with an alien. You will tell me what she says, won’t you?”

Loki turns a full glare on him this time. “Agent Sitwell, I am not an alien, I am a prince of Asgard. Everything will be fine. There is nothing to worry about.”

Thor hastens to his brother’s side, putting a soothing hand on his shoulder, which Loki shrugs off irritably. “Don’t touch me, brother.”

“It will be fine, Loki…” Thor trails off, looking about the room. “Look, there, they made hakarl for you, I know you have been craving it. Should I get you some? I would be happy to bring you some, or even save the entire dish for you.”

Loki makes a face at him. “Stop being nice to me. You’re making it harder to hate you.”

Thor just grins, and then the ring of a gong sounds, and they enter.


	2. Chapter 2

When he wakes in the morning, Sitwell cannot remember much – the result of too much mead – only that Loki had had an outburst of temper that had resulted in Thor’s plate upending itself over his head and the smashing of several platters in showers of green sparks. He remembers Thor assuring him that this is normal for Loki, and discussing (quietly) whether Loki’s hormone-amplified temper might be better handled on Asgard. Most of the rest of it is a blank.

He lifts his head and looks around, managing to suppress the groan that wants to spill from his lips at the pain that shoots through his skull. The doors to the balcony are open a crack, and faint early morning light streams in, just enough to leaven the darkness of Loki’s bedroom. He shifts slightly, only then noticing that there is a naked demigod plastered across him. He shifts onto his side, back to Loki, who makes a soft sound, re-wraps himself around Sitwell, and nuzzles against the back of his neck. And with his touch, some of the sharp hangover pain ebbs away (healing magic, maybe? Sitwell ponders asking, but he’s just relieved and surprisingly… content to find himself curled up in Loki’s space (and it’s weird, waking up next to another person like this, not like on ops where you catch sleep when and where you can, but someone you’re actually _sleeping with)_ and somehow it helps knowing he doesn’t have to face Asgard all by himself).

He drifts off again, only awakening later when full sunlight hits his face as the curtains are flung wide. He blinks and sits up as Loki strides away from the curtains and over to open the door to admit a pair of servants with platters of food.

“Breakfast,” Loki says cheerily, as the servants set the platters onto one end of a long table and take their leave. “I think you like pancakes? We have something similar that I requested.”

“I do like pancakes.” Sitwell’s stomach rumbles as he climbs out of the bed and pulls clothes on. “Remind me when we get back to Earth that there’s really great diner in New Mexico. I could buy you breakfast. Although, speaking of going back to Earth…”

He follows Loki’s example, filling his plate from the platters, and sits at the other end of the table. Loki gives him a small smile. “I would like to go back as soon as Mother permits. Are you asking me on a _date?_ ”

“Er.” Sitwell takes a sip of his tea. “I… wasn’t, but I could be, if that’s what you want?”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “It could be… intriguing. A date it shall be, then.”

“About going back, though.” Sitwell sits back in his chair and looks at Loki. “As for our return, I was thinking it might be better for us to stay here until the baby is born? I know you want to go back, but nobody on Midgard knows what to do with a half-Asgardian baby or a god’s pregnancy. I’m not comfortable thinking about how the child will even be delivered, but I think we can safely assume no one on Midgard will be prepared to assist you with the delivery, much less any complications that might come up. Plus there’s no hakarl on Midgard unless Thor brings it for you.” He swallows, then continues on with the last point that Thor had brought up the day before. “Also Asgard can deal with your temper. Like, you know, the sparks incidents from last night. I don’t want SHIELD getting trigger-happy, you know?”

“My magic will take care of the child. Do not worry. We will be fine.” Something in Loki’s eyes flashes as he looks at Sitwell. And Sitwell feels like a small prey animal wanting to scurry into a safe hole in the ground. “As to my temper, Asgard was my home. It is also a lie. I will always be a monster here, even with the appearance of Odin’s forgiveness. All eyes were on me at the feast but most of them were wondering what sort of monstrosity I would give birth to this time. And you have wondered the same, have you not? That is why you are so concerned about the child. You want to know what terror I will be unleashing upon the world and how it will affect your SHIELD. And perhaps you think if we stay here, then the child will stay here too, and not be a threat to your precious planet. Well, that is not my problem, Jasper. My _temper_ is no one’s concern, least of all yours.”

Sitwell manages to stay outwardly calm. “I honestly didn’t think of that. This is part of what I was saying, though, you say the magic will take care of it and I didn’t know that and how was I supposed to know that and please don’t smite me because I am  _worried_  about  _you_  even though you’re a total lunatic. Do you think I want them strapping you down to  _study_  a magic pregnancy? Or doing tests on  _our_  child to figure out what makes it go? Because, yeah, that is my problem, but it’s also yours. I want this kid  _safe,_  because it’s my kid too. Work with me here, okay?”

Loki stares at him. Sitwell braces for another outburst, but instead, Loki sniffles. “I did not realize you saw me or the child as anything other than an inconvenience.” He sniffles again. “I’m sorry, I seem to be a little more emotional than usual.”

 _Well, this is awkward._ Sitwell fumbles for a handkerchief to hand Loki. “Maybe at first, because this whole situation did get me in just a teensy bit of trouble with the powers that be and I’m not ideally situated to be a parent, or even remotely prepared for that. SHIELD trains us for a lot of things, but not that. And there will be a lot of paperwork and a lot of contingency plans to be made. But I like paperwork, and over the past few days I’ve…kind of liked having you around, too. I mean, as long as you’re not trying to kill me.” He pauses. “I’m not good at this stuff. I’m good at logistics. Here’s my logistical plan: we have a breakfast date at the diner in New Mexico when we get back.”

(Sitwell can’t help but think how weird it is that Loki’s _crying_ over this, but what does he know, he’s never been pregnant, and he’s heard rumors that it involves crazy mood swings, and it’s not like Loki was all that stable to start with, but generally he’s seemed given to fits of rage, rather than tears, and Sitwell just does _not_ handle crying well. At all. Which makes him worry about what the heck he’s going to do with a crying baby. But he’s got months to figure that out, right?)

Loki nods, sniffling again. “That would be acceptable. And I don’t anticipate trying to kill you.” And, well, it’s a start.

A few minutes later, there’s a knock on the door, and Thor barges his way in.

“Why, yes, Thor, now is a fine time for you to enter, thank you for waiting for me to answer your knock,” Loki says irritably.

“I _am_ sorry, brother, but the servants told me you were up and I wanted to see if Jasper wanted to see more of Asgard today.” Even Loki’s rebuke cannot quench Thor’s puppy enthusiasm.

Loki waves this away. “We were in the middle of a _conversation_ which didn’t include you.” He turns back to Sitwell. “On that note, I would still prefer to return to Midgard before my - our - baby is born. I understand your concerns about magic and about keeping the baby safe, but Odin’s track record with my offspring has been, shall we say, terrible. Perhaps between you and Thor we can negotiate some sort of diplomatic agreement to ensure that no harm shall come to me or the child whilst we remain on Midgard?” He looks back at Thor, smiling prettily. “What do you think, brother? Odin listens to you. Also, you brought back some ice cream, didn’t you? I do not know where you stored it.”

Thor produces a cardboard container of Ben & Jerry’s brought from Earth, which he hands over to Loki. “It’s probably soft by now.”

“Well, I don’t know anyone capable of manipulating ice to refreeze it, do you?” 

Sitwell watches curiously as Loki does _something_ to the container and ice crystals form on the outside of it. Loki offers it across to the table to him. “Would you like some?”

Sitwell shakes his head. “No, thank you, I’ve had enough to eat. Did you know your hand turned blue?”

“I wish you had not had to see that. Hideous, isn’t it?” Loki says with a grimace.

“Not at all. It was a pretty color, I thought. Do you turn blue _everywhere?_ ”

Loki gives him a long, skeptical look. “Yes, but it likely would burn your skin to touch me, even if I were willing to let you see it, which I am not. I try to avoid that form in Asgard, as it is a knee-jerk reaction here to kill the Frost Giant first, ask questions later.”

“That’s been common in our history too, killing the ‘monstrous’ outsiders who generally aren’t all that monstrous at all, just different. It’s a beautiful shade of blue, though. I would love to see more of it someday. Just think about it, okay?”

An awkward silence falls. Thor looks from Loki to Sitwell and back again, then gets up out of his chair. “Well, if you are done with breakfast, would you like to see more of Asgard?”

“Sure. Let me get some shoes.” Sitwell follows suit, finds his shoes and SHIELD jacket, and follows Thor out with a last look at Loki, who is looking at his hands – long, pale fingers, no sign of Jotun blue left, but the look on his face is one of vague revulsion and sadness. And, Sitwell thinks, it’s probably just as well that he’s leaving with Thor – he doesn’t know how to fix whatever he said that was wrong, and he doesn’t think Loki would even let him try. Better removal from the scene than flailing at a moving emotional target.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But it's just a bit of fun..."

“You have seen most of what I could show you inside already,” Thor says, as they wander down a long corridor with high vaulted ceilings. “Loki and I would run through these halls as children. Laughter echoes within them wonderfully. Of course, so does Father’s shouting when we misbehaved, which was much of the time.”

Sitwell nods, looking around. The palace is vast, but one corridor looks much like another, thus far, and he suspects Thor won’t take him to anything that might actually interest his superiors, like a weapons vault, so he doesn’t ask. Thor leads him down a set of stairs and out onto the grounds surrounding the palace.

“These grounds have stayed the same for as long as I can remember.” Thor’s tone is almost wistful. “If you look carefully, you can just see the branches of Yggdrasil in the distance. It is the pillar of our lives. Loki once convinced me that we should water it ourselves.” Thor grins. “By peeing on it. Father was not pleased. I couldn’t sit for a week after that.”

And Sitwell laughs, of course, because that sounds like something a playful younger son would do. He wonders what Loki was like, back then. The stories Thor tells are so far removed from the sharp-edged god left behind in his rooms.

Suddenly, Thor is shoving him down to the ground. “Bilgesnipe!” Lightning flashes, and Mjolnir flies past him. He ducks.

“Oh, so _that’s_ what a bilgesnipe is…yeah, I’ll just, uh, stay over here.” Sitwell scoots back, well out of the way of the swinging hammer.

Thor dispatches the beast quickly, then turns to help him up off the ground, grinning excitedly. “Did you see that? A fine kill.”

“Yes, Thor, very impressive.” Sitwell makes a show of applauding. “What happens to it now? You don’t _eat_ it, do you?”

“No, we don’t eat them. Disgusting.” Thor makes a face at him. “They eat each other. Come, the stables are nearby. You should see them.”

Sitwell isn’t a huge fan of horses, but he’s not about to offend his host, so off they go.

“You know, I’ve never actually been this close to a horse, but I think ours only have four legs.”

Thor gives him a very patient look. “Most of ours also have four legs. That is Sleipnir. Loki’s son. Come, Jasper, you may give him an apple, and pet him on his nose, like this. Don’t be shy.”

Sitwell gapes, but obediently reaches out to pet Sleipnir’s velvety muzzle. “This is Loki’s _son?_ I thought that was just a myth. What about the other myths about his children? Are they true too? It would explain why he was so upset earlier.”

“Fenrir and Jormungandr and Hela? Well, Fenrir was on your vessel. The others are real too, but not nearly so…friendly as Sleipnir. And yes, they were taken by Odin, all of them.”

Sitwell just shakes his head. If the myths are true, well, he can understand a little, but it seems horribly unfair anyway. “I think I understand a lot of things better now. No wonder he thinks everyone is worried that he will give birth to a monster,  when to them it looks like that’s all he’s ever done. And no wonder he’s afraid of what Odin might do, especially if the child doesn’t look like us.” He pauses. “You know I’ll do everything in my power to protect my child, right? Regardless of whether I have SHIELD to back me up.”

“Good.” Thor hands him another apple. “So when shall we hold the wedding?”

Sitwell bobbles the apple and nearly drops it. “The what now?”

“Well, you were planning to marry my brother, were you not? He is carrying your child.”

“Um.” Sitwell tries to think of an answer to that that won’t result in his immediate dismemberment. “Maybe…you should ask Loki how he feels about that plan?”

“Of course! We should speak with him right away!”

Sitwell grabs at Thor’s sleeve, looking panicky, before he can bound out of the stables on this quest. “Just for my own information, is this a _requirement_ now? Because, well, we aren’t exactly in a relationship. It was _one time._ ” (It’s been more than that now, but Thor doesn’t need to know that.) “And I’m not sure that’s even legal on Earth…”

Thor laughs. And laughs. “No, of course not. I was…what is your Midgardian phrase? Pulling your leg.” He pats Sitwell familiarly on the back; Sitwell nearly falls over and somehow manages to stop hyperventilating.

“That is not even remotely funny. That is a horrible thing to do to a man, Thor,” he grumbles.

“Loki’s sense of humor must be rubbing off on me.” Thor looks not the least bit apologetic.

“How are you enjoying your tour, Jasper?” Loki’s voice greets them from the doorway of the stables. “I see you have met my Sleipnir. What sense of humor is that, Thor?”

“I asked him when you two were going to marry. The look on his face caused me much glee!” Thor starts laughing all over again. Loki’s lips pinch together slightly as he glances at Sitwell, but whether in amusement or annoyance, Sitwell can’t tell.

“You were unhappy at that prospect, Jasper? You wouldn’t want to marry the mother of your child?” he asks smoothly.

(How the hell does he get into these situations anyway?)

“Er. It’s not…I don’t…that’s not…” he breaks off, looking from Loki, staring back at him expectantly, to Thor, and back. He swallows. What the hell. Honesty’s best, right? Especially with the god of lies. “I barely know you and you’re barely off SHIELD’s most wanted list and I’m a mortal anyway and why would you even want to and of course I’m going to be there for the child but that doesn’t mean that I oh god I’m going to shut up now because I don’t even know what I’m saying and please tell me you’re not serious because if you are I have no idea how to answer that in a way that isn’t going to make you want to kill me again.”

And Loki’s expression widens into a smirk, and Sitwell starts breathing again. “Oh, _relax,_ Jasper. At least you’re honest. One of us should be. I understand it probably wouldn’t be your first choice. I’m not sure it would be mine either. However, it would be a delightful prank to play on your Director Fury, would it not?”

“I think he would actually try to kill me.”

“Nonsense, you’d be under Asgard’s protection as a royal spouse.” Loki dismisses that. “I think I rather like this scheme, actually. Thor, _brother,_ are you going to help or are you going to ruin my fun?”

Thor lights up at being asked for help. “Of course I will help! Anything you like.”

Loki’s grin widens. “Excellent. How shall we do this? We could simply tell SHIELD it has happened. Or we could actually go through with it. Perhaps a handfasting? A year and a day, no further commitment required? But we would not tell _them_ it is only temporary. So many ideas. So little time.”

Sitwell interrupts. “Do I not get a say in this? What if I don’t want to screw around with my _boss?_ ”

Loki looks at him with sad-puppy eyes. “It’s just a bit of fun…”

“It’s a terrible idea. Even worse than getting myself into this situation in the first place.”

He realizes as soon as the words are out of his mouth that he shouldn’t have said them. And of course Loki’s eyes flash in response.

“Well, it’s all about _you,_ isn’t it? Maybe you should have thought of that sooner, _Agent._ ”

“I would say a handfasting,” Thor intervenes hastily. “Agent Sitwell, I know you are not pleased with it, but think of your child. It would give it legitimacy, too.”

“No, no, he doesn’t want to do it,” Loki snaps, and turns away from them both. “Let’s just forget it as another one of Loki’s terrible ideas that no one else thinks is funny.”

Sitwell sighs. (How do you keep a crazy god happy anyway?) “An Earth year or an Asgardian year?”

“Asgardian.” Loki turns back to him. “It needn’t be too inconvenient for you. If we go back to Midgard relatively soon, it would not last much beyond the child’s birth, and perhaps less than that.”

Sitwell stares at Sleipnir for a long moment. Now that the possibility of Loki’s child being…something other than human-looking has been raised, he can’t get it out of his head. Of course he’ll take care of it, he has pretty clear ideas in his head of what a father’s responsibilities to his children should be. But an official acknowledgement of that is vaguely terrifying to consider. And being bound to Loki – there are so many ways in which it could go wrong.

As if reading his thoughts (or maybe just his face, though he’s had enough practice at Agent Face that that’s unlikely, and he doesn’t _think_ Loki’s a mind-reader, but it’s probably pretty obvious what he’s thinking about), Loki adds softly, “I would not try to trick you into something permanent. And Thor would stop it if I tried. Trust him if you do not trust me.”

Sitwell glances at Thor, who nods earnestly. Then back at Loki, who’s just watching him patiently, his face expressionless.

“Fine,” he groans. “Please tell me I’m not going to regret this.”

Thor perks up immediately. “Mother will be so pleased!”

Sitwell would really like the ground to swallow him up right about now.

“Let me tell her,” Loki says, “but Thor, you had better be the one to tell Odin.”

“Quite right, brother. Quite right!”

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Mother seemed very happy. She nearly cried of joy. What of Odin?” Loki asks, when Thor appears in his rooms that afternoon.

“He went quiet at first, and stared at me. It was very alarming. But then he said that it could have been worse, and that you have his blessing. He did not seem pleased, and was very quiet. I am not sure what that means.”

“He probably suspects I am up to something that will cause him no end of headaches. He’s usually right about that.”

“This time you aren’t. Well, you are, but not designed to cause him headaches.”

“True.”


	5. Chapter 5

A week later, Sitwell’s standing in an antechamber near a set of doors that leads out onto the grounds where the ceremony will be. He smooths invisible wrinkles out of his suit coat, needing to do _something_ with his hands and entirely too self-conscious in such typical Midgardian attire. Well, he hadn’t exactly packed for an Asgardian wedding – handfasting – whatever, especially not one he’s _in_. Thor had brought by a set of Asgardian robes, but they had all agreed that he looked even more ridiculous in them, so here he is, in his suit, in this entirely surreal experience.

Footsteps sound behind him, and he turns slightly to see Loki in his ceremonial garb. _He_ looks confident and gorgeous in robes, naturally, not like he’s playing dress-up in his mother’s drapery, like Sitwell had.  

“Everything is ready,” Loki says in a low voice. “Are you ready? You look quite handsome, by the way.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. This sort of thing wasn’t exactly covered in my training.” Sitwell manages to stop fidgeting and looks over at Loki, who looks like he does this sort of thing every day.

“You will be fine,” Loki reassures him. “You are trained to adapt to… _unusual_ situations, are you not? And Thor and Frigga have gone through the ceremony with you, so you know what to expect. Think of it as an undercover mission. It is not real.”

“I know it isn’t real. On the other hand, you _are_ having my kid, and that means that we’re going to be connected for a long time anyway, which almost makes it feel real. And there are all these _details_ and _flowers_ and _gifts_ and _toasts_ and _guests_ and it just makes it seem like this is a really big deal. And…I don’t know how to feel about that.” Sitwell gestures helplessly.

Loki looks at him thoughtfully. “Jasper, I understand that all this,” he motions to himself, “came about because you were just bored and a little lonely. Maybe I was bored and a little lonely too. That is not enough to make us friends. It need not even make us lovers going forward. It inconveniently made us parents. But there is no requirement that we be more than that. It is a year and a day in Asgardian time. It will be considerably less than that on Midgard. It will be over before you know it and you will be free to do as you wish.”

“And how far are we planning to carry the charade?” Sitwell asks. “When we get back. Are we going to share quarters? Go on dates? Engage in public displays of affection? Do we wear rings? How are you planning to reveal that it isn’t real? I can get behind pranking Fury, but this is an awful lot of trouble to go to for a prank.”

Loki smirks. “The most thorough pranks are always the best. Simple is boring.”

“Well, you do have a history  of elaborate, yet fatally flawed plans.”

“Thank you ever so much.” Loki’s eyes flicker with something dangerous, but then it is gone. “I’m sure you can come up with clever excuses for many of those things. I can give the appearance of being in your quarters without ever needing to be there.” He gestures, and several illusory clones appear, all smirking at Sitwell. He waves a hand again, and they disappear. “You will have duties to attend to. I will have preparations to make for the child. It will not be too odd if we do not spend much time together. As for our public behavior, I trust you of all people can use professionalism as an excuse?

“Rings are optional, though it would serve to reinforce the prank to your director. But it is not required if you would prefer not to wear one. As for revealing the prank, I had not yet decided, though it could be as simple as coming up to you in public and announcing that our year and a day is up.”

He steps closer to Sitwell and touches his shoulder lightly. “I know you don’t trust me, and why should you when I’m called Liesmith? But as I said, Thor and my mother would not allow any tricks in this. I am not trying to trap you in some sort of lifetime tie. I don’t want that either.” At the look of skepticism on Sitwell’s face, Loki shrugs. “I would be far less effective as a liar if I did not occasionally tell the truth.”

“You and Thor cooperating on _anything_ makes me nervous.” Sitwell sighs. “Well, I guess if I’m doing this, I should play my part right and act like I’m happy about it.”

“I will also point out that you have not seemed terribly unhappy to be spending time with me. You did ask me on a date to a diner. And then there was last night, which,” Loki raises an eyebrow, “I was under the impression we both thoroughly enjoyed. Did you not?”

“I did. You know I did.” He sighs again. “Fury’s gonna kill me.”

“He cannot raise a hand to an Aesir prince’s consort. You will be under our protection. Try not to worry so much, Jasper. Have some wine. Try to relax. It will be fine.”

A gabble of enthusiastic voices filters into the room, followed by Thor, the Warriors Three, and Sif, dashing any hope Sitwell has of relaxing.

“Loki! My friend, how are you on this most special day?” Sif asks.

“Impatient. But it is a momentous occasion, is it not? I trust you are well?” Loki’s tone sounds cordial enough, but there is a slight tension around his eyes (and when did he start noticing these things, Sitwell thinks).

“I am pleased that you have found such a mate in this Sitwell!” Sif claps him on the back. He manages to keep his balance. “He is a shield brother of the Son of Coul, yes? Then you have chosen well the father of your child! I shall give them with the blessing of harvest and of warrior-craft both.”

“He is a good man and will be a good father to their child,” Thor agrees.

Loki gives Sif a short bow. “He is indeed, and I am told he is a fine warrior. I have not yet seen him in battle, as there has not yet been an occasion for a battle, but perhaps I shall someday. Or perhaps you can spar with him at some point, eh? See if he can best the mighty Sif? Thank you for the blessing. It is appreciated.”

“Well, he is mortal. I do not wish to harm the father of your child.”

Sitwell wants to glare and prove her wrong, but he can’t really argue with that. He remembers seeing them fight in New Mexico.

Trumpets sound in the distance, and Loki brightens. “Oh, good! I do love a good processional in my honor.”

“Come, to Yggdrasil!” Thor leads the way.

Try as he might to pay attention, it’s mostly a blur to Sitwell. Despite his training, he’s too keyed up to notice much, till suddenly they stop. And then everything is crystal clear – the scent of apples drifting in on the breeze, the shifting of Odin’s robes as he stands before them, and Loki’s eyes, so green and bright with mirth, though his face is properly solemn.

Odin clears his throat, and begins.

“We gather here before the cosmos on a joyful occasion! Sacred fire burns within us, sacred waters flow within us.

“See Yggdrasil, the cosmic tree, the axis of the universe that connects the nine realms. Now we call upon Heimdall, the gatekeeper, so we can connect to the realms and the shining ones. Watch the fire and Yggdrasil and see the Bifrost, the rainbow bridge, manifest to us.”

The sky lights up with electricity, running along the Bifrost and up Yggdrasil. Thor and Volstagg each take a step back, leaving Sitwell and Loki centered in front of Odin. Silently, three women – Verdandi, Skuld, and Urd – slip into the rows of guests, taking places near the roots of the great tree.

“Groom and…groom, step forward.” When they have, Odin looks beyond them to the watching throng. “Today we are gathered here to stand witness to the handfasting oaths of this couple, one of life’s great rites of passage, lasting a year and a day.” He looks back at the two of them. “Have the two of you prepared for this day?”

“We have, my king!” Loki’s voice carries confidently.

“We have, my lord,” Sitwell echoes.

“So be it. State your vows to each other.”

Loki gives Sitwell a tiny nod. He swallows nervously, and begins to recite the vows they had rehearsed. “I, Jasper Sitwell, in the name of the Norns and spirits that reside within us all and guide us, by the life that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take thee to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one.

“To desire thee, and be desired by thee, to possess thee wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, for a year and a day.

“I shall not seek to change thee in any way. I shall respect thee, thy beliefs, thy people and thy ways as I respect myself.

“For a year and a day, I, Jasper Sitwell, bind myself to you, Loki Odinson.”

In the back of the crowd, Urd pours a small vial of water onto the nearest root.

Loki smiles faintly, almost a smirk, then looks around at all the people amassed. The smirk grows wider.

“I, Loki Odinson, in the name of the Norns and spirits that reside within us all and guide us, by the life that courses within my blood and the love that resides within my heart, take thee to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one.

“To desire thee, and be desired by thee, to possess thee wholly and completely without restraint, in sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, for a year and a day.

“I shall not seek to change thee in any way. I shall respect thee, thy beliefs, thy people and thy ways as I respect myself.

“For a year and a day, I, Loki Odinson, bind myself to you, Jasper Sitwell.”

Next to Urd, Skuld places a small handful of mud on the root nearest her. Verdandi looks forward in interest.

Odin speaks again. “Grooms, present your gifts to each other.”

From his pocket, Sitwell takes a small item shaped from green and black plastic and metal. He holds it out to Loki. “You said once that you wished you had a taser. So I had one made for you. While you already have extraordinary abilities to protect and defend yourself, it is also symbol of my commitment to protect and defend you and our child.” He gives a small grin. “It also gives you your own power of electricity.”

Loki grins back, and Sitwell catches the flick of his eyes at Thor as he takes it. He twists his fingers, and an apple appears in his palm, with skin shining like burnished gold. From his robes, he draws a small knife and cuts a thin slice, which he holds out to Sitwell.

“To you I give a slice of one of Idunn’s golden apples. These are the apples of eternal youth. They do not grant immortality or a lifespan the length of ours unless you consume them regularly as we do, but this slice will provide you with a small extension and enable you to heal more quickly. That is my gift to you.”

Next to them, Odin has a coughing fit. Sitwell’s jaw drops. (Wow, that taser is totally inadequate, thanks for the heads up, Loki…)

He takes the slice and pops it in his mouth before he can second-guess himself. The flavor is slightly tangy, cold and pure like fresh spring water. He thinks he’ll leave this out of his report to Coulson. He offers Loki a weak smile.

“Your hands,” Thor says from behind Loki. Loki holds out his left toward Sitwell. “Right hands,” Thor corrects. Loki gives him a long look, then retrieves his left hand and holds out his right instead. Sitwell takes it in his right hand.

Working together, Volstagg and Thor bind their hands together with a pair of silken cords, one in a shade of blue suspiciously Jotun, one in gunmetal gray.

Odin, recovering from his coughing fit, holds up his hands. “By these cords, groom and…groom are bound, for –“

“BILGESNIPE!” The scream comes from somewhere in the amassed guests, cutting Odin off. Unseen, the Norns rise as one and leave as silently as they had arrived. From seemingly nowhere, a sounding of bilgesnipe stampedes towards the guests. Thor throws his hammer, slamming one in the head. Sif draws her sword and bounds into battle with the nearest beast, protecting fleeing guests with a fierce battle grin. Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral also leap into the battle. Volstagg trips and his sword flies into the throat of a bilgesnipe as he loses control of it.

“Oh, Volstagg!” Sif calls as her blade downs another beast.

“I got it!” Volstagg pulls his sword out of the first one and goes for another.

“Perhaps you should spend more time on the training field and out of the dining hall!”

“I have to keep my strength up!” Volstagg shouts back at her.

“Sif, behind you!” She ducks as Mjolnir flies through the air.

And standing near Odin, watching it all, Sitwell glances at Loki. “Is this your doing?”

Loki laughs. “No, but I love it. Shall we kill ourselves a bilgesnipe? I don’t want my _brother_ to have all the fun, after all.”

Sitwell grins back. “In that case, sure, why not? I need a weapon.”

“Can you wield a sword left-handed? Since you’re still attached to me.”

Sitwell nods. Loki gestures with his fingers and a sword appears in his hand, which he hands over to Sitwell. “Here! Have at it! Kill me a bilgesnipe, husband!”

Sitwell blinks at that, then again as Loki comes up with a pair of wickedly gleaming knives out of his robes and flings them toward one of the beasts. “Hold on!” Loki says, and then the world goes black around Sitwell and his stomach heads toward his toes and he’s very surprised that his lunch doesn’t try to migrate out of him too when they reappear next to the very angry, wounded bilgesnipe. He gapes at it, then remembers that he’s a warrior too, dammit, and lunges with the sword, dragging Loki along with him. Thick blood begins to spurt from it. Behind him, he can hear Loki laughing with glee.

“Marvelous, Jasper! One more and I think it will be down!”

He hacks again, and is rewarded with a spray of blood across his face and suit. Of course. The bilgesnipe utters a terrible screech and slowly sinks down before him.

“Jasper!” Thor bounds up to him, patting him on the shoulder. “You have made your ancestors proud this day!”

Sitwell blinks. “Thanks, I think.” He pulls out a shirt-tail to try and wipe the blood off his glasses.

Loki magics up a handkerchief and wipes his face clean. “You did very well. They will retell the tale of this day for centuries to come, I am sure.”

“Mother has disposed of the rest of them,” Thor says, sounding awed. “She shooed them away like a herd of errant chickens. And they went.”

“Welcome to the family.” Odin joins them, looking bemused, or as bemused as one can look with one eye.

Sitwell gives him a bow. “I am honored to be a part of it, sir.” He looks over at Loki. “What happens now?”

“It is time for the feast!” Thor booms. Loki holds up a hand.

“Almost, Thor.” He tugs Sitwell close by their joined hands and plants a messy kiss on his lips. “ _Now_ we may feast!”

A cheer erupts around them.

 


	6. Chapter 6

When they leave the feasting hall (to another considerably louder and lewder cheer), hands tangled together, they don’t get more than dozen steps down the corridor before Loki’s tugging him into a shadowed alcove and pushing him up against the wall. Sitwell’s hands fumble with buckles and straps, trying to figure out Loki’s armor without looking as Loki’s mouth comes down on his, stealing focus to his lips and tongue and teeth scraping over Sitwell’s lower lip. Loki’s thigh works its way between his, pressing against the bulge in his trousers, dragging a moan out of him. Loki pulls back just a little to smirk knowingly at him, before his head jerks to the side and his hand comes up over Sitwell’s mouth. He makes a soft sound in protest before Loki hisses at him, and his hands go still on Loki’s hips as he hears what Loki heard, the sound of drunken voices and clicking of shoes against the marble floors. His breath comes out raggedly, his heartbeat thuds in his ears and he’s surprised none of the revelers turn toward them at the sound, but then their gaiety fades away again in the distance and he meets Loki’s eyes again and his breath catches in his throat at the look there.

“Come,” Loki murmurs, “I would rather have you in privacy,” and with his hands on Sitwell’s arms, he transports them both back into his chambers.

In the lamplight in Loki’s bedroom, Sitwell can finally, _finally_ see what he’s doing with all the fastenings of Loki’s armor, not that it actually helps any, and he doesn’t even realize he’s muttering under his breath at it until Loki laughs at him. “Here, let me.” Much surer hands than his take over and a moment later Loki’s standing before him in just a soft green under-tunic and his leather trousers, snug over his hips and thighs and leaving very little to the imagination. Not that Sitwell needs his imagination, as Loki has been whispering absolutely filthy promises in his ear all evening.

 _He’s_ had more than a little to drink, of course, with servants appearing to refill his cup every time he’d taken even a sip from it, and it’s probably a good thing because now that they’re here and his hands are sliding up under Loki’s tunic, rough against smooth skin, he’s no longer nervous, no longer distracted by the thought that _this changes everything_. He isn’t _comfortable_ with Loki, but he isn’t worried about that just now. Loki tears at his shirt – it’s ruined anyway, stiff with bilgesnipe blood – and Loki’s fingers dig into his back, pulling him closer, and Loki’s teeth nip at the soft skin beneath his ear. He groans, reaching for his own belt buckle, and tugs Loki back toward the bed in a tangle of limbs and grasping hands.

Loki’s weight presses him into the piled furs, his hands drifting everywhere. Sitwell takes him in hand and Loki quivers against him, breath hissing from between his teeth. Then deft finger are opening him up (aided by the bottle of his favorite lube that Sitwell had thought to bring with them to Asgard), even as Loki’s mouth comes down on his again, swallowing the moan from his lips. Loki slips between his thighs and presses in, in, sinking into Sitwell, his eyes dark and _wanting,_ and it’s as he’s thrusting into him, hard and slow and deep, that Sitwell remembers that yes, everything’s different now, this man with the hand wrapped around his cock and the needy mouth is his _husband_ , at least for the next year, and thinks that maybe that’s okay.

And then he stops thinking as Loki finds the sensitive place deep inside him and _drags_ a guttural sound from deep in his throat, and Loki answers with a low, breathy groan of his own as he strokes Sitwell through his climax without losing his own rhythm, coming himself a moment later with a shudder against Sitwell.

 It’s a long moment before either of them has the presence of mind to move. Sitwell closes his eyes, content to drift in the soft cocoon of furs and the warmth of Loki’s skin against his. Loki’s hair is soft with the scents of pine and winter against his face. He could get used to this, he thinks, sliding a hand over Loki’s hip. He can’t imagine what it will be like to raise a child with Loki, can’t picture growing old with Loki – or, well, growing old himself while Loki stays ever the same – can’t even bring himself to think of the inevitable backlash when they go back to Earth – but he could get used to this all the same, even as Loki finally pulls away. And as Loki rises from the bed to fetch a damp cloth to clean them both up, Sitwell realizes suddenly that he’s no longer assessing Loki as a threat as he moves about the room – he’s just…watching.

Sitwell falls asleep with his fingers twined through Loki’s.

 


End file.
